


Now All Those Lands Lie under the Wave

by amyfortuna



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beleriand, Character Study, Gen, POV First Person, implied Celeborn/Galadriel, mentioned Beren/Luthien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late in the First Age, Treebeard goes on a walking tour of Beleriand and meets some interesting people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the willow-meads of Tasarinan

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the following poem, for Seasons of Middle Earth (B2MEM 2014), written for B2MEM 2016. 
> 
> _"In the willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the Spring._  
>  _Ah! the sight and the smell of the Spring in Nan-tasarion!_  
>  _And I said that was good._  
>  _I wandered in Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand._  
>  _Ah! the light and the music in the Summer by the Seven Rivers of Ossir!_  
>  _And I thought that was best._  
>  _To the beeches of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn._  
>  _Ah! the gold and the red and the sighing of leaves in the Autumn in Taur-na-neldor!_  
>  _It was more than my desire._  
>  _To the pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I climbed in the Winter._  
>  _Ah! the wind and the whiteness and the black branches of Winter upon Orod-na-Thôn!_  
>  _My voice went up and sang in the sky._  
>  _And now all those lands lie under the wave,_  
>  _And I walk in Ambarona, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë,_  
>  _In my own land, in the country of Fangorn,_  
>  _Where the roots are long,_  
>  _And the years lie thicker than the leaves_  
>  _In Tauremornalómë._  
>  -Treebeard, _The Two Towers_

I strode among the willows, weeping-ones-fair-green-water-trailing, breathing in the scents of the bright Springtime morn, drinking in the sights of my willows by the wide water. I there beheld one of the elf-children, perched in a willow, playing on a flute under the light of the early morning. His eyes opened very wide when I approached, and he set the flute aside, giving me a bright smile. 

"I had heard tell of your people," he said, "but scarce believed that I would ever encounter any of the Shepherds of the Trees."

I laughed with a sudden rustling of branches and leaves. "We walk in secret not by chance," I said to him, slow and measured, feeling the cadence of the words out. His words were different from those across the mountains who I had been accustomed to speaking with - lighter and deeper at the same time, with the weight of legends and sorrow in them, and yet with gladness for the beauty he was surrounded by. 

"Well met indeed then!" he said, leaping lightly from the branch of the tree down to the ground. "I am called Voronwë." 

"Do you dwell then in this land of willows, Voronwë?" I asked. For looking around I could see no sign of other Elves, nor of any habitation. 

"For a time," he said. "My companions have gone ahead, but I lingered here." He raised his eyes up to meet mine. "I have lived near all my life within the stone walls of Gondolin, where there are trees to be sure, but no weeping willows, and before that in cold Nevrast on the shores of the sea, where the trees are few indeed." He laid a hand on the nearest willow, and she quivered to his touch, provoked by my presence. "And these trees are the fairest that in ever a spring I hoped to behold." 

I could sense the weight of some great destiny within him. "May it be your fate, Voronwë of the Elvenkind, to complete your errand and come once more to the willows of Nan-tasarion!" 

"I never wish to leave it," he said softly. "Would that I never had to!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _For I had seen little of the lands of Middle-earth, and we came to Nan-tathren in the spring of the year. Lovely to heart's enchantment is that land, Tuor, as you shall find, if ever your feet go upon the southward roads down Sirion. There is the cure of all sea-longing, save for those whom Doom will not release. [...]Yet fairest of all are the willows of Nan-tathren, pale green, or silver in the wind, and the rustle of their innumerable leaves is a spell of music: day and night would flicker by uncounted, while still I stood knee-deep in grass and listened. There I was enchanted, and forgot the Sea in my heart._  
>  \- Voronwë


	2. In the elm-woods of Ossiriand

For a short span of time as I count time, I traversed the elm-woods of Ossiriand, exploring the banks of rivers rushing fair and free. Seven rivers in the summer - I moved slow, sharing speech with the others of my race whom I encountered there. For trees too have gossip, and our stories to tell, and our stories take a long time to tell in our language. 

We spoke of the feel of rushing water, and the sound of wind, and the high voices of the Children singing. Too, we sang of the sorrow that dwelt over all Beleriand - the pain and suffering that I had felt even in my own country that called me out to investigate it. We spoke also of the futile battles against the Foe, and of the ones who wrested the bright jewel from him. 

Long I lingered in that land, and at last made my way to the Land of the Dead that Live, the green and fair isle in the River Adurant. 

I stood on the shore, watching and waiting, and at last she came out to meet me - Luthien the Fair with eyes bright as stars, her stalwart, grim-faced husband behind her like a sturdy oak, the memory of pain written into his features, and their son - darting out into the water, unafraid, striding to meet me with steps almost longer than his legs could bear. The first born of the unions of Men and Elves was very fair as Men and Elves count fairness - a young sapling eager for blossoming, brimming with promise. 

"I knew it wasn't just a tree!" he exclaimed delightedly, almost shouting the words. 

"Of course it wasn't," Beren said, a smile beginning to form at the corners of his lips. "Trees don't walk." 

"Sometimes they can," Luthien said in her warm voice. "What would you with us, Shepherd?" 

"To see you with my own eyes," I said, "and to bring you this message from my kin: that should you need aid or be in any fear, speak to the trees, and we will answer you." 

Her answering smile seemed to brighten even that bright summer's day. "My thanks to you, Shepherd. We will remember your words."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thus it came to pass that when the Dwarves of Nogrod, returning from Menegroth with diminished host, came again to Sarn Athrad, they were assailed by unseen enemies; for as they climbed up Gelion's banks burdened with the spoils of Doriath, suddenly all the woods were filled with the sound of elven-horns, and shafts sped upon them from every side. There very many of the Dwarves were slain in the first onset; but some escaping from the ambush held together, and fled eastwards towards the mountains. And as they climbed the long slopes beneath Mount Dolmed there came forth the Shepherds of the Trees, and they drove the Dwarves into the shadowy woods of Ered Lindon: whence, it is said, came never one to climb the high passes that led to their homes._  
>  \- Of the Ruin of Doriath


	3. To the beeches of Neldoreth

As the year began to turn toward autumn, I drifted toward Taur-na-neldor, the beech forest of Neldoreth, where the roots sank deep and the leaves waved high in the soft breezes. The land was protected here, and the blight that had begun to affect the trees in Ossiriand had not touched this place. Not yet. The beeches grew tall and stately here, whispering among themselves of times under starlight long gone by, when Luthien's feet had lightly danced amid them and in them too. 

Resting under the great Hírilorn, among her roots, I found two Elves who dreamed there as if no sorrow lingered in the outside world, for a moment. 

"Beautiful ones, parents of beautiful children," I said in greeting, bowing low, and the maiden, her hair crowning her like the leaves of the beech in autumn, or like the sun crowns the sky at noon, opened her eyes, while her partner still lay dreaming with his head in her lap. She looked at me with no surprise, but much delight. 

"The world is changing," she said. "I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. How fare the trees beyond the bounds of this land, Shepherd?" 

"Some suffer," I answered, "but this place - ah! - still remains full of peace and beauty, a gift of those who tend it. It is more than my desire to find such beauty here." I bowed to her, branches waving, and she inclined her head. 

"For a little while, it remains," she said. "But if you should wish to seek out the source of the blight that hazards all, northward is your journey, where the pine trees still cling amid the heights, and beyond, where the land sinks down into a great desert, once filled with flame. There my brothers perished, and even Sharp-flame and Iron-might could not withstand the heat of that burning." Her eyes seemed lit with an ancient fire as she spoke, and grief was in her voice. "So many great trees perished in that flame. Do not hazard yourself upon the plain, but you may see well enough from the height!" 

I bowed again to her. "May it be that we shall meet again one day!" 

Her eyes were still bright, grey-blue like a cloudless night, and she looked at me like she was beholding me in altogether another time and place. 

"On a long, long road hence," she said at last, "we shall meet again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Then Treebeard said farewell to each of them in turn, and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel. "It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone,_ A vanimar , vanimálion nostari! _' he said. "It is sad that we should meet only thus at the ending. For the world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. I do not think we shall meet again."_
> 
> _And Celeborn said: "I do not know, Eldest." But Galadriel said: "Not in Middle-earth, nor until the lands that lie under the wave are lifted up again. Then in the willow-meads of Tasarinan we may meet in the Spring. Farewell!"_


	4. Upon the highland of Dorthonion

Winter came harsh and fast, with some sting in the bite of it, at least for those not clad in wood. I walked through the Silent Land and ascended into the heights of Taur-na-Fuin, passing messages with the pines, soft-whispering-cone-bearing-needle-sharp ones, those hardy trees who dwell in mountains and bear snow on their branches. They waved needles in my direction, spoke to me of horrors they had seen. Foul things dwelt in Dorthonion now - bats more fell than any of Yavanna's making flittered through the night sky, wolves roamed free through the trees, and ever and anon the foul passage of dark creatures, tormented and broken, those Orcs who served the master who caused them only misery, could be seen. 

And yet there was still beauty in the wild land, and ever more as I climbed up the highest mountain in the land, at the far northern edge, Orod-na-Thôn, pine-covered, snow-laden, with steep sides. No unclean foot had ever touched it, no hand defiled it. 

It was dawn when at last I stood at the top of the mountain, and I faced North, to where black smoke rose from the heart of three great mountains, and looked down into the desert-plain between the heights. All was barren and laid waste beneath me, save for one small hill, where glinted metal and bright gems from sword-hilt and shield and helm, where lay fair banners rotting with those who had once borne them. 

Long I gazed upon the lands of the North, and long I stood under winter skies, hearing the wind whistle through the pines. 

After long contemplation in which years may have passed, I began to sing, and raised my voice to the very sky.


End file.
